Screaming for Death
by Hoseki Honooko
Summary: Hisoka is dying. He knows it, and he can't wait for death to come. Drabble, pre-death Hisoka.


Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, I'd finish it, trust me. XD  
  
*********************  
  
I woke up screaming again.  
  
  
  
Not even just a shout, but full blown screaming. The new nurse, Yukari I think she's called, came running in with a syringe. She thinks sedatives are the solution to everything. I'd probably agree with her, but in my case that doesn't work. Nothing works.   
  
The pain just doesn't stop. Sometimes it ebbs, just a dull ache in one spot. Sometimes, like today, it feels as if every inch of body is being torn apart by thousand of minuscule teeth, ripping at me. Painkillers don't do anything but make me groggy. Not even the strongest drugs can help; believe me, they've tried. And sedatives are pointless, because it hurts when I'm asleep, too. Sometimes I scream in my sleep. At least, that's what the nurses say. I can't really bring myself to care.  
  
Today is going to be bad. My legs are burning, and my back is so strained and tight, I'm almost afraid it will snap. I wouldn't be surprised if it did. In fact, I wish it would. Then I could just die and be done with this.  
  
I'm not afraid to die. I never have been. I'm looking forward to it, actually. My life has never been anything to miss.   
  
Mother was afraid of me. Father hated me. If my own parents don't even love me, I doubt there's anything about me worth loving.   
  
I've been in this hospital for about… three years, I think. I've lost track. I haven't left my bed in a least a year. I can't walk any more; I can't even stand anymore. The nurses used to try and force me to get up and move around. They gave me long lectures on how movement prevents my muscles from atrophying. They gave up when I stopped talking.  
  
I haven't spoken in a year. There really wasn't much point to keep talking; no one really cared. The nurses certainly didn't like speaking with me. I make them nervous. They're used to the children here crying for their mothers, or laughing in the face of death. I don't do either. The idea of me, crying for my mother, is laughable. The last thing I want is to have to face them again. I'm not going to laugh in the face of death; I'm welcoming it. I'm welcoming the peace.  
  
I'm not screaming anymore. I'm clenching my teeth so hard I'll probably chip a tooth. I may even manage to break a tooth off. It's happened before.  
  
My roommate used to try and talk to me too. He doesn't know what's wrong with him; he's in complete denial. The psychologist tries to get him to admit it, but he won't. Either that or he can't. He can't bring himself to face the fact that he's going to die, just like the rest of us.  
  
I've noticed him watching Yukari the nurse. He always says things to her like, 'when I get released, we should go out for dinner'. Yukari used to pat him on the head, like a child. Now, she giggles.  
  
Here she comes now. I'm lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, but I can feel her come in. I can feel my roommate brighten. He really likes her.  
  
"You know... I really wouldn't mind some... company. It gets so lonely around here sometimes..." he says to her, with a suggestive tone. She giggles. I hate that sound.  
  
"We can't." she hisses, still giggling. "That boy-"  
  
"Forget him; he can't hear anything. He's completely out of it." He interrupts. Yukari pauses, but evidently, she doesn't care, because they start kissing.   
  
I don't speak. I don't move. I hate this, all of it, but I can't do anything but lie here and wait for death.  
  
Yukari is moaning. They're going to have sex right in his bed; right here with me in the room. I'm trying to block everything out, but it's not working. The sedatives are affecting my control on my empathy. If I'm lucky I'll pass out soon.  
  
I wish I wasn't here. I wish I was never born. If I could take back my life, I would. It would make everyone much happier. That includes me.   
  
My roommate's bed is squeaking under the strain of two bodies.   
  
I suddenly remember what my roommate is dying of. It's AIDS.  
  
How ironic.  
  
Am I dead yet? 


End file.
